End Of Story

One evening last September, a horde of teenagers, walked down the public access path, adjacent to our home, toward the beach. It was dark and the air was filled with loud, young voices. Looking out the window, we saw rows of blinking flashlights from the many I-Phones as they traversed the route like an army of ants. Would put you in mind of 1970s concerts with the Bic lighters flicking in the air or fireflies in the woods on a hot summer’s night.

They were not quiet and voices carry by the water. My husband was not happy. I said, “Ah, it’s a last Friday night hurrah before school. Probably just having a few beers.”

He said, “Mary, we don’t want to normalize this. And it’s after 10:00pm.”

Umm, okay, Dad. lol

They were there nearly an hour. I did call the police (under spousal pressure lol) and clearly stated, “NOT an emergency but a bunch of young folks carrying on by the water.”

The police never came. The kids left after an hour. End of story.

Apparently, not the end of story. The police didn’t come to us because the youthful band was wreaking havoc all over the nearby neighborhoods. They received calls from many residents as the miscreants navigated their way around town. Breaking into cars and causing mischief.

But I did not know this when I went to bed. And I didn’t know it first thing in the morning.

The truth is I didn’t much care about the teenaged nonsense when I actually did find out later in the day-figured the middle class white kids would get a “stern talking to” by the concerned parental units as well as law enforcement. Probably get saddled with some community service and/or reduction in weekly allowance as restitution. I had no doubt that they’d be found and held accountable in some small way. It didn’t effect me in any way and I wasn’t outraged. I was apathetic. End of that story.

Back to the start of my day.

When I woke up, I gathered a trash bag and gloves. Walked down to the beach. I was expecting to clean up the previous evening’s detritus.

I was pleasantly surprised. No red Solo cups anywhere! Spied a couple of discarded cardboard coffee cups. I left the beach with the almost empty trash bag slung over my shoulder and followed the public access path away from the shore. Retracing steps of the- unbeknownst to me at the time -wild and wanton youth! STILL no big loads of trash! Yay, young people! Hip. Hip. Hooray!

I continued up past my house and across the bike path to another trail in the woods. The kids most likely chose this route to get back to the neighborhoods. I had cleaned up this area on a few occasions in the past. Because it was a popular resting place for alcohol bottles. That’s where they all went to die. I once filled up a whole bag of vodka and beer empties. Not a one of them mine! Anyway, the next practical step in good citizenry was to continue collecting trash.

Ambled into the woods with eyes roaming-here and there-mostly at the ground. But I do scan the area. I like to be aware of my surroundings. To my right, among the trees, there was a glint. Something reflecting in the sun-dappled woods caught my eye. I looked closer and saw a bicycle lying on its side. Maybe a small rucksack near the bike.

Ahhh. So the kids did leave a little something in their wake!!

That was my first thought.

I then glanced around the woods. And noticed a figure some distance beyond the bike. It looked like a person hunched over near a tree. You’d have to be looking intently to see it. If you were trotting up the path straightaway you’d have passed both unknowingly-the bike and the bent-over person.

My second thought? After thinking it was a teen’s bike?

I wasn’t alone in the woods!

I’ve hiked in a lot of surrounding woods and was totally aware that people sometimes lived in them. Men.

I felt a touch of anxiety set in at that moment. I might be an older woman but I was still a lone female in a wooded area with no one else in the immediate area. Except possibly a strange man.

I continued looking, firmly rooted in my spot, as it didn’t appear the man was moving. And then I saw a thick rope hanging from a limb.

I ran across the bike path to my house in less than sixty seconds. I opened the front door and shouted up to my husband, “Come, now!”

He was on a conference call. He also knew if I was calling for him then something wasn’t right.

“Leave the dog in the house!”

He came tearing out of the house in his bare feet.

I said, “I think there is a body hanging from that tree.”

He said, “It’s probably the kids from last night with early Halloween pranks.”

I replied, “I don’t think so.”

The cops were called and this time they arrived.

It was not a Halloween prank.

Made the marauding high schoolers seem like really small potatoes.

This the end of the story.

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#3 Laugh

I’m not going to lie. Staying in the house is tough. Again, I know I’m fortunate and totally aware of this. And if you are reading this then you probably also share that same good fortune.

But still can’t discount people’s feelings. We don’t have the normal things/events breaking up our days or weeks. Days are blurring into one another. Or every day seems like a Sunday. Except church-going folks don’t even have services to attend outside the home.

Our doorbell rang today and I was like a deer caught in the headlights. What was that noise? I recalled the familiar trilling from another lifetime but wasn’t quite sure what it meant. It had been that long.

It was the Fedex guy. Was just a “heads up” ring of the bell to let us know he left an envelope by the front door.

I missed trash day for the first time ever! Maybe in my life! And let’s just say the Recycling man saw me at my absolute very best. Not! Braless, pajamaed, makeup-free, harried, huffing and puffing up my long driveway with the huge blue bin in tow. With my index finger (universal signal for one minute needed)thrust in the air. At that moment I wanted the recycling picked up and vanity was not about to come into play. At all. Sort of like when you give birth and you are just so exposed. You just let go of any remaining dignity.

I stood there in all my glory and honestly said,”I don’t even know what day it is anymore!”

He laughed heartily. Then I did.

So here’s #3 on my “Getting Through the Stay-At-Home Directives.”

Laugh.

Find something funny. Maybe a television series. A book. A movie. A comedy special. Call an entertaining friend. We need to find some laughter during this bizarre time.

This Irish proverb doesn’t really apply to the current state of the world because laughter and a good night’s sleep won’t cure the virus. But both will definitely lessen our anxiety and lift the dark cloud surrounding it for a bit. And we desperately need that.

So keep on practicing safety measures in place. We will get through this!

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Neighboring Community

I loved the parables of Jesus when I was a little kid. Whether it was the nuns sharing with us or curled up with the glossy covered kid’s books reading on our own time.

My husband also heard parables or stories when he was a child but they were not about Jesus. They were about the Prophet Mohammad.

Same appeal.

He loved the childhood stories just as much as I did.

There was one he told me that I enjoyed.

The moral of the story, in my husband’s telling, is very important.

Each day a Jewish neighbor deposited trash on Mohammad’s doorstep. And every day Mohammad would pick it up and bring it to the dump.

Every single day.

Then one day Mohammad found that there was no trash on his doorstep.

Wait. What?

No trash?

Should be a good thing.

But it was unusual for this neighbor not to leave trash on the doorstep.

Mohammad went to check on the neighbor and found that he was ill.

This is a very important story. Religion, in my opinion, doesn’t have anything to do with it. That was just my jumping point. This is about the human connection.

Everyone in the neighborhood where I grew up knew everyone else’s business.

Knew when people pulled up their shades in the morning. The school and work schedules. Meal times. When someone had company. Which Mass families attended. When vacations took place. And when the shades went down at night. Usually after the late news or a bit of  The Late Show.

People know these things without realizing. It was just the usual daily routine.

When one of those things didn’t happen, according to the norm, it was a cause for concern. Something just wasn’t right. People checked on each other.

We all live in different neighborhoods and types of communities. Everyone has neighbors. I always say that one doesn’t need to be best friends with their neighbors (that’s a bonus) but we should care about each other.

Each person has a role in building up a strong community. Knowing your neighbors and caring about them can be the very first step.

 

 

 

 

 

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